The soft knock on my office door came right on time, two sharp taps. It was the last one I’d hear from her.
I didn’t look up right away. I’d been trying not to look at the door all morning. Instead, I buried myself in contract reviews, site issues, calendar reorganizations, anything to keep my thoughts from circling back to the fact that today, Dakota Lennix was leaving.
When she stepped in, I finally glanced up.
She was holding nothing but a small cardboard box, her last. The others were already gone. Her office, emptied. Her presence, already fading. She looked around the room briefly before sitting down across from me, exactly like she had a thousand times before.
But this time was different. This time, I let the silence hang too long. I folded my arms, staring at her, and let the words fall like bricks.
“I’m disappointed, Dakota. I can’t believe you’re just throwing your responsibilities away like this.” She blinked, but her expression didn’t crack.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Denver. It’s something I can’t control. I have to go back to LA as soon as possible. I don’t want to risk anything.” I didn’t like that answer. I didn’t like any of this. I’d depended on her for five years. Not just for schedules or reports or perfect coffee. For structure. For reliability. For silence when I needed it and resistance when I didn’t want to admit I did.
And now she was walking out of my office, out of my life, like it was a minor errand.
“You know that I depend on you for my work all the time,” I said, my voice cold, even to my own ears. “And I just want to say that we’re not ending this on good terms, Dakota.”
She nodded slightly, eyes steady. “If I could stay, I would. But I can’t. It’s an emergency. I can’t avoid it.”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair, rubbing the tension from my temple. “When do you go?”
“Tonight, Mr. Denver.”
That fast. She was really doing this.
I opened my drawer and pulled out the envelope I’d prepared an hour ago. I slid it across the desk without a word. She picked it up slowly, uncertain.
“You worked for me for five years. You deserve that.” She opened the envelope, eyes widening slightly when she saw the check.
“Mr. Denver, this is too much. I already received my salary earlier.”
I shook my head. “You said your grandfather is sick. Consider it help.” Her lips parted slightly in surprise. She didn’t expect kindness from me. Most people never did.
“Thank you, Mr. Denver,” she said softly.
I nodded once. “You’re free to go.”
She stood up slowly, murmured her thanks again, and walked out. She left the door open behind her. I sat still for a moment, then I stood up. I don’t know why I followed her. I just needed to see her again.
When I stepped into the hallway, she was still there, standing over her box. She looked startled to see me.
“Why are you still here?”
“Do you need anything?” she asked.
“Coffee,” I muttered before I could stop myself. She moved instantly, setting down her box. But something in me clenched. I grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly.
“Let me do it myself. Just go.” She turned to me slowly, eyes searching mine. Then, before I could prepare for it, she hugged me. It was fast. Clumsy. Her arms wrapped around me like she didn’t want to let go and for a moment, I couldn’t move.
I wasn’t built for this. Not the warmth. Not the goodbye. She pulled away just as quickly, her cheeks flushed, her breath shaky.
“I’m sorry, I just… I love this job. And the idea of quitting still hurts. I’m sorry. And thank you again, Mr. Denver.” She grabbed her box and walked quickly toward the lift, disappearing before I could say anything else.
I stood there, frozen. Not because I didn’t know what to say. But because everything I wanted to say didn’t belong in the world we’d created for each other.
“Good luck” didn’t feel right.
“Come back soon” sounded pathetic.
And “Don’t go” was something I wasn’t allowed to say.
So I watched from my office as she left the building. Her figure slipped into a black car, shielded by a driver I didn’t recognize. I returned to my desk and sat down slowly.
The resignation letter was still in my trash bin, but the echo of her voice—of her hug—lingered in my mind far louder.
She was going to LA. She’s getting married and becoming someone else entirely. And the worst part? I wasn’t sure if it was just the absence of my secretary that bothered me…
…or the fact that it might be the last time I ever saw her again.
